A TIMELY HINT.*

AN OLD STORY IN A NEW DRESS.

As I was going to market-town
Early morning yesterday,
I met a maiden with a smile,
Who walked with me a happy mile-
Oh, she had eyes of brownest brown
That sparkled full of merry play!

A great iron kettle bowed my back,
One hand grasped a black goat's nose,
The other held a staff and string
Tied to a hen, a struggling thing-
The maiden's cheek it did not lack
The color of the rosiest rose.

As we were wending toward a grove,

The maiden said, "Nay, nay, sweet youth! Beneath yon spreading trees you might O'erpower me and hold me tight

And kiss my lips as though my love

You were this fair May-day, forsooth."

"Now how might that be?" then quoth I; "A kettle on my back you see, My left hand holds a goat, my right A staff and struggling fowl hold tight; My hands and feet though you should tie I should not have less liberty."

"Nay, nay," smiled she-I did not miss

A single word" your staff you'll stick
Into the ground, tie goaty there,
Turn the kettle anywhere

To cover up the hen, and kiss

Me-ah, I understand your trick."

"Now, now," cried I, "and but for thee
I had not dreamed of that. 'Tis good
You walked with me. Pray hold the hen,
And hold the goat!" She did, and then
I kissed her lips right cheerfully.

She sighed, "I was afraid you would.”

* Written expressly for this Collection.

BY THE CROSS OF MONTEREY.*

RICHARD EDWARD WHITE.

We are informed by California tourists that this Cross is still standing and bears the following inscription: "First Mass held June 3, 1773." [THE EDITOR.] Good Junipero the Padre,

When 'twas dying of the day,
Sat beneath the dark tall pine-trees
By the Cross of Monterey,
Listening as the simple red men
Of their joys and sorrows told,
And their stories of the missions,
And their legends quaint and old.
And they told him when Portala
Rested by the crescent bay,
Little dreaming he was gazing
On the wished-for Monterey,
That this cross on shore he planted
And the ground about it blessed,
And then he and his companions
Journeyed northward on their quest.

And the Indians told the Padre
That Portala's cross at night,
Gleaming with a wondrous splendor,
Than the noon-sun was more bright,
And its mighty arms extended

East and westward, oh, so far!
And its topmost point seemed resting
Northward on the polar star.

And they told, when fear had vanished,
How they gathered all around,

And their spears and arrows buried

In the consecrated ground;

And they brought most fragrant blossoms,

And rare ocean-shells in strings,

And they hung upon the cross-arms

All their choicest offerings.

And the Padre told the Indians:

“Ah, if rightly understood,

From "The Cross of Monterey and other Poems," by permission. "The Midnight Mass," with a brief description of Padre Junipero Serra, will be found in No. 27 of this Series. "The Lost Galleon," and "The Discovery of San Francisco Bay," by the same author, are in No. 28.

What you tell me of the cross here
Has a meaning deep and good,
For that light is emblematic

That the time is near at hand
When the faith of Christ the Saviour
Will illumine all the land.

"To the cross cling, O my children!
In the storm and in the night,
When you wander, lost and weary,
It will be a guiding light;
Cling to it, and cares and sorrows
Very soon will all have passed,
And the palm and crown of glory
Will be given you at last.”
Good Junipero the Padre

Thus unto the red men told
Of the emblem of salvation
And its story sweet and old,
Sitting by the crescent bay-side,
When 'twas dying of the day,
At the foot of dark tall pine-trees,
By the Cross of Monterey.

THE FIREMAN'S WEDDING.-W. A. EATON

What are we looking at, guv'nor?
Well, you see those carriages there?
It's a wedding—that's what it is, sir;
An ar'n't they a beautiful pair?

They don't want no marrow-bone music,
There's the fireman's band come to play;
It's a fireman that's going to get married,

And you don't see such sights every day!
They're in the church now, and we're waiting
To give them a cheer as they come;
And the grumbler that wouldn't join in it
Deserves all his life to go dumb.

They wont be out for a minute,

So if you've got time and will stay,
I'll tell you right from the beginning
About this 'ere wedding to-day.

One night I was fast getting drowsy,

And thinking of going to bed,

When I heard such a clattering and shouting— “That sounds like an engine!" I said.

So I jumped up and opened the window:
"It's a fire sure enough, wife," says I;
For the people were running and shouting,
And the red glare quite lit up the sky.
I kicked off my old carpet slippers,
And on with my boots in a jiff;
I hung up my pipe in the corner
Without waiting to have the last whiff.
The wife, she just grumbled a good'un,
But I didn't take notice of that,
For I on with my coat in a minute,

And sprang down the stairs like a cat!
I followed the crowd, and it brought me
In front of the house in a blaze;
At first I could see nothing clearly,
For the smoke made it all of a haze.

The firemen were shouting their loudest,
And unwinding great lengths of hose;
The "peelers" were pushing the people,
And treading on every one's toes.

I got pushed with some more in a corner,
Where I couldn't move, try as I might;
But little I cared for the squeezing

So long as I had a good sight.

Ah, sir, it was grand! but 'twas awful!

The flames leaped up higher and higher:
The wind seemed to get underneath them,
Till they roared like a great blacksmith's fire!

I was just looking round at the people,
With their faces lit up by the glare,

When I heard some one cry, hoarse with terror

'Oh, look! there's a woman up there!"

I shall never forget the excitement,

My heart beat as loud as a clock;
I looked at the crowd, they were standing
As if turned to stone by the shock.

And there was the face at the window,
With its blank look of haggard despair-
Her hands were clasped tight on her bosom,
And her white lips were moving in prayer.
The staircase was burnt to a cinder,

There wasn't a fire-escape near;
But a ladder was brought from the builder's,
And the crowd gave a half-frightened cheer.

The ladder was put to the window,

While the flames were still raging below: I looked, with my heart in my mouth, then, To see who would offer to go!

When up sprang a sturdy young fireman,
As a sailor would climb up a mast;

We saw him go in at the window,

And we cheered as though danger were past.

We saw nothing more for a moment,

But the sparks flying round us like rain; And then as we breathlessly waited,

He came to the window again.

And on his broad shoulder was lying
The face of that poor fainting thing,
And we gave him a cheer as we never
Yet gave to a prince or a king.

He got on the top of the ladder

I can see him there now, noble lad! And the flames underneath seemed to know it, For they leaped at that ladder like mad.

But just as he got to the middle,

I could see it begin to give way,
For the flames had got hold of it now, sir!
I could see the thing tremble and sway.

He came but a step or two lower,

Then sprang, with a cry, to the ground;
And then, you would hardly believe it,
He stood with the girl safe and sound.

I took off my old hat and waved it;
I couldn't join in with the cheer,
For the smoke had got into my eyes, sir,
And I felt such a choking just here.